Atychiphobia
by Aiiro Hoshi
Summary: Just don't cry, okay? It's really...uh...distracting, he shrugged, unable to think of another word. Maka choked, and did something unexpected. Implied Soul/Maka.


**Brief Commentary:  
**I can't resist...XD Soul Eater is so fantabulous; how the hell do you NOT fangirl over it? (Or fanboy, if you're a guy.) Love to summer, to the end of the school year, and to crappy weather! Lawl. Anyway, herre it is. Something or other. I'm pushing the Soul/Maka button for this one, but it's nothing big...really. There's no making out, I assure you, and...ergh. Just don't assume it's cheesy. What shall I call this, implied? Review or get Aiiro-chopped (I'm SO NOT stealing Maka's move ;O).

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**Atychiphobia**  
_One Shot_

Soul's eyes fluttered open at the small, distinctive sound of a muffled sob. Furrowing his eyebrows, he clumsily sat up, slightly restrained by the Arachnophobian robes as he struggled to find the damn arm holes. Twisting the irritating mask to the side of his head, he squinted through the darkness of the large room they all shared in search of the person who was crying. From what he could make out, everyone else was asleep, although there was someone in the corner, sitting hunched over. If they would just take the stupid mask off, he'd be able to determine who they were and if it would be okay to go over and ask why they were crying.

Cautiously, Soul stood, stepping over the various sleeping bodies to reach the person in the corner. The hair on the back of his neck bristled uneasily - whipping his head around to face behind him, he shuddered at the sight of another small figure, also awake, and staring straight at him. It wasn't impossible to determine that this was Medusa, from the flashing yellow eyes peering out from inside the mask, narrowed into slits. Scrunching up his face in determination, Soul chose to ignore the witch as he continued towards the sobbing figure.

Warily, he touched one of their shoulders, efficiently startling them; the squeak proved that much. The masked person jerked up to look at him, before exhaling from relief.

"Umm...Soul?" the voice sounded pained and cracked. He squinted down at them.

"..."

"Oh, sorry," they pulled the mask to the side of their head, eyes staring modestly at the floor. Soul was not surprised to find the person to be Maka, although her red, swollen eyes were definitely of concern, also the way she kept fidgeting and looking out the small window in anxiety. He sat down next to her, crossing his arms as he leaned against the wall. His eyelids flickered shut as the demon scythe asked,  
"So, what's going on?"  
"Uh, nothing, really. Kind of freaked out about today, but that's all..." Maka laughed nervously, careful to keep her voice quiet.  
"Uh huh," his tone was disbelieving as he opened one red eye to glance skeptically at her. She caught the look and sheepishly turned her head away.

For a while, they sat in an uneasy silence, well aware of Medusa's snake-like eyes trained unblinkingly on them. There were no nocturnal animals to make some semblance of noise to interrupt the uneasy quiet - Arachne's magic had frightened or killed most of the wildlife surrounding the fortress and the near by area. Curiosity drew Soul's eyes back to Maka, who was fidgeting almost uncontrollably with discomfort and apprehensiveness. He was about to try a short interrogation again when tears began to leak back down her face, but she beat him to the punch.

"Okay, okay, I lied," the scythe technician confessed in a hushed tone, voice frantic and choking. "I'm really...I'm really worried about Chrona...Medusa said Arachne was going to use her for experiments, and she's been through so much already, and I don't know what I can do to stop it or even find Chrona in this big place and..."  
She trailed off as she realized she was beginning to ramble, and sat as if expecting Soul to say something. He failed to comply with her silent form of anticipation.

Soul honestly didn't mind Chrona. Sure, she was weird, and with the help of her freak weapon Ragnarok had given him a huge-ass scar across his torso and infected him with the black blood...but she wasn't a bad kid, really. She was just...he searched for a positive adjective, but found himself broke on that account. But anyway, he could understand Maka's concern. With Chrona's...condition, it was easy to worry over her, and, in his opinion, Maka felt a bit maternal around her, and Chrona probably recognized her...um...what was the word...sub-something...sub-consciously, that's it, as a mom. But this was going a bit too far.

If Chrona was driving her to _tears_, then it was getting ridiculous. Honestly, the kid had black blood and an irritating demon...sword (he supposed Ragnarok was classified as a sword; he had never seen him as a scythe) - she could handle herself pretty well, Soul was sure. He attempted to negotiate with himself, trying to push back his irritation, but it was really getting annoying. All Maka had been _thinking_ about lately was Chrona. Did she not know the meaning of 'give it a rest'? Had she absolutely _no room_ to think about anything else? Seriously, what the hell - he was her scythe, wasn't he at least some-

Soul cut himself off. He knew he was just being selfish now, as well as shallow. Cool guys weren't selfish, and _definitely _not shallow. So after taking a few deep breaths to calm himself, the demon scythe said slowly,

"It's like I said, Maka...don't trust everything she says. Chrona could be on the other side of the planet, for all we know...I'm not trying to say it's wrong to be worried, but just keep in mind..." He stopped speaking, afraid he might say something even more offensive than Chrona's possible situation.

"I'm sorry, Soul," she bowed her head, drawing her knees up to her chest and hugging them. "I'm getting all worked up...you really could be right...ugh, I'm just...ugh."  
"Ugh, huh..." he sighed, crossing his legs as he closed his eyes a second time. "It's okay, Maka, we're all stressing."  
"But I'm being the most stressful, right?" she demanded, turning her head to look at him. God, if she wasn't a girl...  
"No, you're not," he glared at her. "Stop trying to be the martyr, okay?"  
"I - I'm _not!_" Maka glared back, before huffing and turning herself away from him. "You're the worst person to talk to when someone's upset, Soul."  
_Thanks, but nobody asked you, _he thought dryly to himself. He'd have to face a Maka-chop if he spoke that aloud. The Arachnophobian robes were so shapeless she could very well be hiding nine encyclopedias and a dictionary in there. He'd be dead by morning...shaking the thought away, Soul sighed. Unfortunately, he would have to apologize if she was going to speak to him ever again...because that was how most girls worked. You say something honest (no matter how blunt it may be), they will ignore you or give you the silent treatment until you go insane, and somehow wind up on your knees begging them for forgiveness. Ugh.

"Sorry," he grumbled, before his mouth snapped shut. Her stiff back relaxed (it had been stiff before? He hadn't noticed, exactly...) and she sighed, turning back to face him.  
"Never mind, sorry," she mumbled, arms still hugging her knees as she stared at her feet poking out from the black robes.  
_Wait, how did you get to apologizing to me...?_ Soul was extremely tempted to ask, but somehow he felt that it would be safer for his mortality if he didn't voice the question aloud.

The demon scythe and his technician lapsed back into silence, the aura swirling around them awkward and emotionally unstable...on Maka's part, anyway. It was really beginning to get on his nerves, and if Maka started the next day tired and with her wavelengths all over the place...well, undoubtedly, it would be bad for the both of them.  
Quietly, he spoke again.

"Listen, it's gonna work out, okay? If Chrona's here, we'll get her out. If she's not, then...well, we'll just have to fight for Shibusen and find Chrona afterwards. Just don't worry, Maka, geez...if you get bent out of shape, it's gonna affect me too, y'know..."

She threw him a guilty look, and he was forced to suppress a flinch.  
_God, don't tell me she's remembering THAT...hasn't she gotten used to the scar by now?  
_Soul sighed again, for what felt like the hundredth time that evening, and placed a hand on her scrawny shoulder.

"Seriously, Maka, it's gonna work out. I'd be lying if I said otherwise."

He could tell she was biting back a sob, more tears threatening to fall. Soul made a grab for her wrist and used the back of her hand to wipe away the salty liquid, making her blink in surprise. What, she didn't think he was just going to...man, she did? Ugh. He rolled his eyes.

"Just don't cry, okay? It's really...uh...distracting," he shrugged, unable to think of another word. Maka choked, and did something unexpected.

She _hugged _him.

Well, more like she threw herself at him. He even let out a quiet "Oof" as she did so. He was slightly squished against the wall, Maka clinging to the front of his robes with her tears coming out in twin rivets, mouth open in a silent sob or bawl (he couldn't tell, exactly...). He bit his lip, still unused to such open "affection" (it was more like she was feeling desperate and clingy...) from his technician...but, eventually deciding it the better (and safer) thing to do, he slowly wrapped his arms around her back, securing her to him. Although he was very uneasy about the idea of Maka being this close, he concluded that this was important for her, so he could totally deal.

Not to mention he felt unbelievably cool right now.

"It's okay, Maka, really. It's all gonna work out," he kept repeating himself, growing tired of keeping his head up and lazily resting it on her heaving shoulder. "It's okay. It's gonna work, Maka."

After several minutes of this, Maka fell still, and to Soul's embarrassment, he realized she had fallen asleep. Damn...well, where was her sleeping bag/cot-thing? Glancing around for the only other empty "bed" he sheepishly realized it was only a few feet away. Well, if he had to get it over with...

Dragging Maka over there was harder than it sounded. Without trying to wake her, the demon scythe was forced to slowly drag her across the tile floor to the "bed," as he wasn't quite strong enough yet to confidently carry her over there without dropping her. Once he had gotten her onto it, Soul took care to be silent as he returned to his own. He hadn't bothered to "tuck her in," as it were; she didn't need the blanket, really, he figured the long-ass robe would keep her warm enough.

As he passed Medusa, he could have sworn he saw her smirk behind the mask.

"Shut the fuck up, damn hag," he grumbled, flopping onto his own sleeping bag/cot-thing and shutting his eyes.

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_Lawl, it be done. :) The goal wasn't really to make it fluffy...but to introduce the concept of just a HUG into the Soul/Maka concept. They don't need to be making out just yet if they haven't even hugged...honestly.  
_


End file.
